Memories
by ELL514
Summary: COMPLETE short story, songfic. Based on 'Memories' by Within Temptation. dramatic DMHG character death, review pls, flames accepted
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: not mine.

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Harry raised his head and watched the scene in front of him. He was leaning against a tree and could see the grassfield and the lake of Hogwarts. Harry's face was wet with tears. Tears of pain, tears of sorrow, and maybe tears of happiness. But for every tear of happiness, there fell twenty other tears. Because of this.

The grassfield was covered with dead bodies.

On the other side of the field, next to the entrance of the castle, he saw some people collecting the bodies. The only survivors of the Final Duel. From where he stood, he saw Ron, Neville, Snape, Hagrid, some of the giants that had come to join them, some Ravenclaws, two Hufflepuffs. Where was Hermione? He knew she wasn't dead, he had seen her. When was that? Right after... He didn't want to think of that. From the corner of his eye, he saw it. The black robes, with on top of it, a wand. No body in the clothes. The body of Lord Voldemort had just...melted after Harry had killed him.

"Don't think of it." Harry whispered to himself. "Something else. Where's Hermione?"

He had seen her, bending over some body. Body, body, body, wich one? He closed his eyes and pictured it. A Slytherin robe, silver ring, blond hair. Harry's eyes snapped open. Draco Malfoy. Oh Merlin. "Oh Hermione, I'm so sorry." He whispered.

He wiped the tears out of his eyes and crossed the grassfield, in search for Ron. He remembred the night he once had with Hermione. Just a winter night.

He and Hermione had been the only ones left in the common room. Outside, it was snowing, but Hermione sat in the couch next to the fire, with a blanket wrapped around her. Harry had went to sit next to her, and they had talked. All night. While the house elves were cleaning the room and feeding some wood to the fire, Hermione and Harry had talked. They told eachother everything. Harry told her about his past with the Dursleys, his dissapeared feelings for Cho, his grief for Sirius, his fear to die. Hermione listened, and then she talked. About how she was always called a bookworm, how she felt that Ron wanted her as his girlfriend but that she saw him as her brother, and how she always expressed herself in songs. 'In songs, I can say everything and express just the right feelings.' She had said. And then it had come out. Since October, she had a relation with Malfoy. First, Harry had been shocked, but he had accepted it. As long as Hermione was happy, it was okay. The months afterwards, he had looked closer, and he had seen that Malfoy wouldn't hurt her. That night had been a very close night.

Since then, Harry and Hermione had been very close friends. They told eachother everything that they couldn't tell Ron or someone else. Hermione had told Harry of the plans she was making with Draco. After graduation, they would pack their stuff and emigrate to South France, somewhere in the Provence. There, they would marry and live happily together. Harry knew that she was happy with Draco. He could see it in her eyes.

And now, he had seen her, crying over her lover's dead body.

-

He had reached Ron. They stared at eachother. Ron broke the silence.

"How are you?"

"Quite alright. I wanna ask you something. Did you find Malfoy's body?"

Suddenly, Ron looked happy.

"No, not yet, but I'm sure he's dead."

"Why?" Harry asked scared.

"Hermione killed him! I saw her, standing in front of him, and I yelled 'Come on, Hermione, kill him! Think of what he has done to us!'. She hestitated, but she did it." Ron said, really proud of himself.

Harry was shocked. He opened and closed his mouth, but couldn't speak. He was saved by Neville.

"Oi, Ron! Come over here for a minute, will you?" He cried from a distance.

"Good luck, man." Ron said, before turning around and running at Neville.

Harry just stood there, still shocked. "Ron, what have you done?" He whispered.

-

He went of to look for Hermione. He knew where to look. One of their secrets that Hermione had told him, their place. On the other side of the lake, hidden by the Forest, where you could only come when you would fly. Except that there was a hidden way inside the Hogwarts castle. Harry hurried inside, and when he was sure that no one followed him, he entered the the hidden corridor.

-

The door closed with a loud 'crack'.

Hermione didn't look up. Harry was the only one who knew about the hidden way, and he had seen her before she had left. One and one is two, and in this case, two was: Harry had followed her. It was alright. Since that winter night, they knew eachother better than anybody else. He even knew things that she couldn't tell Draco.

Draco...

He was now laying in front of her, dead. All her dreams, dead. All her plans for the future, dead. But the memories were so alive...

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Review please. Flames accepted. 


	2. Chapter 2

DISCLAIMER: not mine.

Hermione's thoughts while singing the song are marked with **''**.

_But the memories were so alive..._

Hermione looked up from Draco's dead body, her face wet of tears. She knew that Harry was looking at her and could hear her, but that was alright. She didn't shame herself for him. They know eachother to well for that.

"Memories, memories, memories, memories." She whispered.

She opened her mouth, and hestitated a minute. Maybe when she asked Harry, he would go away. But the hestitating remembred her of something. She had also done that before she had killed the love of her life.

Suddenly, without knowing it herself, she sang.

_In this world you tried  
Not leaving me alone behind  
There's no other way  
I'll pray to the gods: let him stay_

_The memories ease the pain inside  
Now I know why_

'Don't leave me, Draco'

_All of my memories  
Keep you near  
It's all about us  
Imagine you'd be here  
All of my memories  
Keep you near  
The silent whispers  
The silent tears_

'Let me know that you're with me.'

_Made me promise I'd try  
To find my way back in this life  
I hope there is a way  
To give me a sign you're okay  
Reminds me again_

_It's worth it all  
So I can go home_

'I'll keep our dream living, Draco.'

_All of my memories  
Keep you near  
It's all about us  
Imagine you'd be here  
All of my memories  
Keep you near  
The silent whispers  
The silent tears_

'Stay with me.'

_Together in all these memories  
I see your smile  
All the memories I hold dear  
Darling you know _

_I love you till the end of time_

'Don't leave me, Draco.'

_All of my memories  
Keep you near  
It's all about us  
Imagine you'd be here  
All of my memories  
Keep you near  
The silent whispers  
The silent tears_

'Never leave me.'

-

Harry waited some minutes after Hermione had stopped singing. Then he walked to her and laid his hands on her shoulders. Without looking up, she laid her hand on his right.

"I miss him, Harry."

"I know."

"Can we... Could we... Do it here?"

"Of course."

Harry left Hermione sitting there, and walked a bit into the forest. There, he transfigurated a branch into a spade and dug a hole. When it was done, he called Hermione. Soon, she stood next to him, levitating Draco's body. Harry looked away when she kissed Draco's lips a last time. Then, she gave her wand to Harry, turned around and ran away. She couldn't see it.

Quickly, he buried the body. He cried while doing it. He didn't know why.

-

Harry stood next to Hermione, who was crying on his shoulder.

"It will be better. I promise." Harry whispered.

"But how, Harry, how?" She cried.

"Just..." Harry was thinking. "Just create your dreams. Make them real."

Hermione, still burying her face in Harry's shoulder, smiled.

Review please. Flames accepted.


	3. Chapter 3

DISCLAIMER: not mine.

_Hermione, still burying her face in Harry's shoulder, smiled._

Harry opened the letter, some muggle pictures fell out. He immediately saw that it was Hermione's neat handwriting.

_July 12_

_Dear Harry,_

_Surprise! But I think you already saw me through. Yes, I am in France. Yes, the south of France. Yes, the Provence. It's like I've always dreamed it. Like I and Draco dreamed it._

_It's even the house we've always dreamed of! But I don't live here alone. It's some sort of Spanish Hacienda, but we relied on Draco's heritage to buy it. Now I've got a housemate._

_Her name's Sharon, she's a muggle from the Netherlands, but I told her about the magic stuff. She thinks it's 'wicked'. Remember how Ron used to say that? How is he? I'm not sending him a letter, because he would tottaly freak out when I told him I'm in France. When he asks, tell him that I'm okay and that he'll soon hear from me. When he asks._

_Along with this letter, I'm sending you some pictures Sharon and I took. They're muggle pictures. I haven't got a wizard camera, and of course Sharon neither. I wanted to show you the house. You are such a good friend. Thank you for everything; everything you've ever done for me. _

_Well, when you've got any questions, feel free to ask! And you can come anytime you want (read: as soon as possible!.) I'm sure you would like Sharon. Thank you again, for everything._

_From France with love,_

_Hermione_

Harry smiled and took up the pictures. Hermione on a balcony, in a kitchen, in a living room,... The last one was a picture of Hermione and a good-looking girl with long, black hair and dark eyes, standing in front of lavenderfield, the hair of the girl's floating on the wind.

Maybe he would go to visit them next month. Suddenly, he took up one of the pictures.

It was a picture of Hermione, standing in a hall. Sharon, with the camera, could be seen in a mirror on Hermione's left. And on her rigth... Harry held the picture in the bright sunlight.

Next to Hermione stood a man, of her age. His blond hair fell over his grey eyes, and he had his arm around Hermione's waist. He saw something silver on the ring finger. He took a quick peek at the other pictures. On every picture, he could see the... was it a ghost? No. It was a memory.

Harry smiled, Hermione and Draco, finally together.

_The memories are so alive..._

Review please. Flames accepted.


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